But lovelier far than this, the paradise
  Where I was reared; [H] in Nature’s primitive gifts
  Favoured no less, and more to every sense 100
  Delicious, seeing that the sun and sky,
  The elements, and seasons as they change,
  Do find a worthy fellow-labourer there—­
  Man free, man working for himself, with choice
  Of time, and place, and object; by his wants, 105
  His comforts, native occupations, cares,
  Cheerfully led to individual ends
  Or social, and still followed by a train
  Unwooed, unthought-of even—­simplicity,
  And beauty, and inevitable grace. 110

  Yea, when a glimpse of those imperial bowers
  Would to a child be transport over-great,
  When but a half-hour’s roam through such a place
  Would leave behind a dance of images,
  That shall break in upon his sleep for weeks; 115
  Even then the common haunts of the green earth,
  And ordinary interests of man,
  Which they embosom, all without regard
  As both may seem, are fastening on the heart
  Insensibly, each with the other’s help. 120
  For me, when my affections first were led
  From kindred, friends, and playmates, to partake
  Love for the human creature’s absolute self,
  That noticeable kindliness of heart
  Sprang out of fountains, there abounding most 125
  Where sovereign Nature dictated the tasks
  And occupations which her beauty adorned,
  And Shepherds were the men that pleased me first; [I]
  Not such as Saturn ruled ’mid Latian wilds,
  With arts and laws so tempered, that their lives 130
  Left, even to us toiling in this late day,
  A bright tradition of the golden age; [K]
  Not such as, ’mid Arcadian fastnesses
  Sequestered, handed down among themselves
  Felicity, in Grecian song renowned; [L] 135
  Nor such as—­when an adverse fate had driven,
  From house and home, the courtly band whose fortunes
  Entered, with Shakespeare’s genius, the wild woods
  Of Arden—­amid sunshine or in shade,
  Culled the best fruits of Time’s uncounted hours, 140
  Ere Phoebe sighed for the false Ganymede; [M]
  Or there where Perdita and Florizel
  Together danced, Queen of the feast, and King; [N]
  Nor such as Spenser fabled.  True it is,
  That I had heard (what he perhaps had seen) 145
  Of maids at sunrise bringing in from far
  Their May-bush [O], and along the streets in flocks
  Parading with a song of taunting rhymes,
  Aimed at the laggards slumbering within doors;
  Had also heard, from those who yet remembered, 150
  Tales of the May-pole dance, and wreaths that decked
  Porch, door-way, or kirk-pillar; [O] and